Prompt : Are you still taking prompts? Could you write one where Johanna can't believe that there is something serious going on between Haymitch and Effie and she asks Haymitch (maybe they are both slightly drunk) and Haymitch tries to explain it. I don't expect him to confess his love or to talk honestly about his feelings but you write him so perfectly that I'm sure you can work it out. :) THANKS!

Delusion

Haymitch felt like a creep.

Sitting in Thirteen's dining hall alone when everyone was in groups was bad enough, chewing on his tasteless turnips with his mouth half open in a way that would have made his escort cringe wasn't good, but staring hard at the young couple a few tables away was certainly creepy. Yet he couldn't stop watching Finnick and Annie.

He was happy for them, happy to see Finnick smiling and laughing again, happy to see Annie free and safe… They deserved their happiness, certainly more than him.

A tray was slammed on the table, so hard everything on it rattled and some of the food spilled – the guards wouldn't like that – then the chair in front of him was dragged back with entirely more noise than necessary and Johanna flopped down on it, her bald head gleaming under the neon lights. She grabbed her fork and stabbed her first turnip.

"Finnick says you're brooding over that stupid bitch." she spat.

"I'm not in the mood, Jo." he snapped.

"Too bad." she sneered. "I'm sick and tired of you acting like it's the end of the world 'cause a fucking escort might be dead."

The words made his heart ache with renewed pain.

"Don't." he growled. "She's not dead. We would know if she was dead. They would have executed her on TV."

"Except if she died in their cells. She wasn't so well last time I saw her." Johanna shot back.

He stopped breathing.

"You saw her?" he asked, dropping his fork on his tray. His mouth was parched, he squeezed his hands into fists to stop the shaking…

"Sure. Plenty of times." she said, shoveling her turnips in her mouth like only someone who hadn't seen food in months could. "'Didn't recognize her the first time. Hard too, I've never seen her without a wig and that crap on her face before, 'hadn't pegged her for a red hair."

"Strawberry blonde." he corrected mechanically. It was weird to be on the other side of the argument, he was usually the one insisting her hair was red and Effie was the one saying… "How was she? What did they do to her?"

"What did they do to any of us?" she scowled, stabbing another turnip. "What's it to you anyway? She's that good of a fuck that you'd miss her now? I'm sure you can find a willing woman around here, Haymitch."

He wasn't interested in getting laid.

He had thought it was sex he was missing at first. He had toyed with the idea of approaching one of the refugee women who were ogling him – god knew why – but the idea held no appeal. He didn't want a random woman. He wanted Effie. And he didn't want her just to fuck, he wanted to hold her close and breathe in the scent of her shampoo, he wanted to bury his face in her neck and let her take charge because she was better at it anyway. He wanted to talk to her about the kids because she was the only one who knew them like he did. He wanted to hear her say everything would be fine in that cheerful hopeful high-pitched voice of hers.

However, there was no explaining any of that to Johanna.

"She has no intel I made sure of it, why were they still interrogating her?" he countered.

"Why not?" she shrugged. "They do whatever they fancy down there."

He could imagine.

Fuck, could he imagine…

His tortured mind was only too happy to come up with scenarios.

"Why do you care?" she insisted. "I never got what it was with her… You fucked a Capitol, an escort no less, it's bad enough, but now you're sighing after her like a lovesick puppy. You hate every other of those stupid peacocks, so what's different with Trinket?"

Nothing.

And everything.

"She's not like them." he mumbled, knowing it was a lie. She was like the rest of the Capitols on many levels but on some others…

"You're deluded." she mocked.

"Maybe." he snarled defensively. "You've never been deluded for anyone in your life?"

Johanna watched him, her brown eyes staring at his face with too much intensity for his comfort.

"She's not the worst bitch." she granted finally with obvious reluctance. "I don't get it but she's not the worst bitch."

His communicuff beeped, calling him back to Command. He didn't bother with an explanation, he pushed his mostly untouched tray in her direction and stood up.

"She will make it." she said as he was leaving. "She's too annoying to die that easy."